Phobia Poem by Alexander Foald

Walking on the same path
Still yet to know where to go
And my hands are wet and cold
Trembling and terrified by the end

My shadow keeps staring at me
Running a gag I don’t fully understand
Inside my head stands alone the fear
Atop the feelings around my neck

Would it ever end, I wonder myself
Would there be no bend, I may never ask
Much to the degraded-self one could ever be
I become more like a coward, with no sympathy